


A Courtship, Completed

by rei_c



Series: Stiles Stilinski: Vongola Sky [10]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Human Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale is a Little Shit, Sky Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: Stiles takes Peter back to Vongola headquarters with him. Ten days later, they fight.





	A Courtship, Completed

Peter comes back to the family house with Stiles and Erica on Sunday night. Stiles welcomes Peter into his suite but bans Peter from entering his bedroom -- and adds a sky barrier to make sure Peter can't sneak his way in. He gives Peter the room next to his, close enough for Peter to keep an ear on Stiles' heartbeat and far enough away that Stiles still feels safe enough to curl around Erica and fall asleep. 

The next morning, Stiles climbs out of bed, presses a kiss to Erica's hair, and emerges from the bedroom into the living room just to stop and blink when he sees Peter sitting on the couch, dressed and ready for the day. Peter gives Stiles a smile, one of those slow, curling smiles that Stiles remembers seeing on documentaries of large, hungry cats -- ironic, considering Peter's inner animal. 

"I'm not ready for this," Stiles finally says. "I'm gonna shower. Just -- stay there." Peter opens his mouth and Stiles hold up a hand, says, again, "Not ready," and stumbles to the bathroom. 

\--

It's all worth it when Stiles walks into the dining room for breakfast, Peter on his heels, and the Ninth's face goes pale in rage, eyes flaring orange and a subtle shimmer of heat appearing over his hands. 

"Peter and I are courting," Stiles says, making sure his flames are under control and his eyes aren't flaring back at his uncle in challenge. Timoteo's not a morning person -- neither is Stiles, to be fair, but at least he knows better than to get in a flame war before breakfast is even served. "Mist and alpha bonds."

Stiles sits down at the Ninth's right hand, Peter next to him, amusement rumbling in his chest at the stand-off. Stiles clicks his tongue and Peter goes silent just as some of the kitchen staff enter the room bearing trays of food and drink. 

Ignoring the people laying out eggs and toast and plates of meats and cheeses, the Ninth fixes his eyes on Stiles. "I hear you've had a busy week, nephew," he says. 

"Upset that Verde decided to bond with me instead of kill me?" Stiles asks, helping himself to a croissant and some raspberry preserves as Peter pours coffee for the both of them. "If you wanted me dead, uncle, you should have come for me yourself, rather than depend on an Arcobaleno to capitalise on carelessness I don't possess." 

"It might surprise you, Mieczysław, but I don't want you dead," the Ninth says. "You are -- slowly proving your worth, I suppose. But I don't understand why you let Verde carry on for so long. It displays a certain amount of weakness. You should have put him down after his first assassination attempt. _Hard_." 

Stiles sips his coffee, gives Peter a glance out of the side of his eyes; his coffee is just the way he likes it and never the way he drinks it in front of his uncle. Peter's lips quirk and he blinks slow, rolls up a slice of prosciutto and tears into it with his fangs. Stiles resists the urge to roll his eyes as he sets down his coffee and fixes his gaze on his uncle. "Considering it ended with the Vongola bonding an Arcobaleno into the famiglia, I think I handled it appropriately," he says. 

"And now you're considering another 'wolf," the Ninth says. "A born 'wolf with an influential name this time, true, but he lacks power of his own, just like the _lupa_." The faintest hint of exasperation enters the Ninth's eyes and he asks, "When will you bond with someone _proper_? Someone who knows their place and their duty and the honour of serving the Vongola Decimo."

"It's an honor I recognise," Peter says. 

The Ninth snorts at the same time as Stiles; the two exchange a startled glance before the Ninth tells Peter, "You spent a few weeks with the Varia and now you think you know."

Peter leans back in his chair, cup of coffee in his hands, and raises an eyebrow. "I know because I know Stiles. Even in Beacon Hills, when he was hiding his inner Vongola, Stiles was ruthless, clever, loyal to those who earned it and compassionate to those who deserved it. His first act when he ignited was mercy, his second was murder. If he accepts me, as alpha or sky or both, I know my place and my duty."

"And what are those, 'wolf?" The Ninth asks.

"My place is at his left hand," Peter says, "and my duty is his desire."

Peter's mist dances around Stiles, tantalising and tempting. Stiles pushes down his sky and ignores the thin tendrils Peter keeps sending his way. The left hand, Stiles understands what that means, what that implies, but Stiles' desire? Desire is dangerous for a Vongola; it breeds weakness and a Vongola cannot be weak. 

"Well," the Ninth says, once a few minutes' silence had passed. He sounds reluctantly approving. "There are worse mists in the world, I suppose. And an alpha bond would keep you in line no matter how loose the leash his sky offers."

Stiles blinks -- did his uncle -- was that really -- _fuck_.

\--

A week and a half later, Stiles pulls Peter to the training grounds after lunch, says, "Spar with me," as he bounces on his toes. He fights Xanxus every weekend, trains his flames every afternoon during the week against a rotating contingent of Varia and Vongola house staff, but he's never gone up against Peter, not since the night he threw a Molotov cocktail at the 'wolf. He wants to crash his sky against Peter, find the truth of Peter in the middle of a fight, see if all of this has been posturing and planning or if Peter means -- really _means_ \-- everything he's been saying. 

Peter raises an eyebrow but immediately throws up an illusion, one that never takes hold on Stiles, not with the constant flame he keeps burning in his eyes. Stiles glares, says, " _Fight me_ ," and whips a blaze of sky flames in Peter's direction. 

The assault screams toward Peter, burns up the grass between them, and Peter dives to the left to avoid it. He rolls a few times and when he comes up, his eyes are 'wolf blue and his fangs and claws are out. Stiles grins, an amused smile with a tinge of bloodlust, and whirls out of Peter's way when the 'wolf comes roaring at him. 

"Gonna have to be faster than that, Hale," Stiles taunts, "and find something other than illusions. They won't work on me." 

Peter snarls at him, stands there for a moment to collect himself. He swallows the beta shift back but doesn't force the 'wolf out of his eyes. "Can't let yourself believe a pretty lie?" he asks, baring human teeth. "What about a gruesome one," and he sends his mist out in waves that make the air shimmer. 

Stiles uses his sky to shatter whatever Peter's showing him this time, says, "Illusions _don't work on me_ ," and sends two fireballs, crimson at the centre, at Peter. Peter has to fling himself out of the way again, though one fireball catches the edge of his arm, sending the smell of burnt skin through the air. Stiles watches, waits, to see if Peter gets lost in a flashback or gives way to madness, but Peter simply catches his breath, stands there ready for Stiles' next move, knees slightly bent and arms loose at his sides. Stiles laughs, seeing it, says, "You want me to keep you, want me to _claim_ you, Peter? Then listen to me when I tell you something." 

"Listened when you told me no," Peter points out. "Listened when you sent me off to the Varia. Listened," he adds, tone full of mockery, "when your cousin chastised you for not searching out any guardians." 

Peter starts to move left, so Stiles moves right, hearing Peter's words but not responding to them. It's the truth, anyway. Stiles took Peter and Erica to Varia headquarters with him over the weekend, had Xanxus tell him again to flare his sky and be more willing to the possibilities of new bonds, had Mammon chide him and Luss coo at him, practically burnt the training room to a cinder by the time he faced his cousin thanks to how fed up he was with it all.

How fed up he _is_ with it all. 

"And what are you hearing now?" Stiles asks. 

"That it doesn't matter what I say or do, you won't have me," Peter answers, flat and to the point. He grits his teeth but the shift comes, then Peter tilts his head back and howls. When the noise has gone, echoed out into silence, Peter growls, says, "That I'm still _alone_ ," and _leaps_ for Stiles, all thought of flame gone, all veneer of humanity gone. 

The Peter that comes for Stiles is all 'wolf, all rage and pain and desperate loneliness, the fear of an encroaching madness and the sheer, implacable force of will holding it back. 

Stiles smiles, then laughs, and meets Peter's strike with one of his own. 

\--

The two fight, nothing safe or clean about it, the promise of death lurking behind every step and throw and lunge. Peter's trying to claw Stiles to death and Stiles welcomes it, invites it, lets Peter throw himself against the strength of Stiles' flames over and over again. Peter's healing factor is doing what it can to keep up, healing the lash marks, the pitted holes, the burned skin, the muscle tears and broken bones, but it starts to fade, struggles to manage and then gives up. 

When Stiles sees that Peter's not healing any more, he decides to end it. The next time Peter comes for him, Stiles fills his hands with the force of his sky and then punches Peter in the sternum, sending the 'wolf flying back. Before Peter can get up, Stiles straddles him, snarls in his face, and -- Peter whines, closing his eyes and tilting his head, offering Stiles the length of his throat. It's an invitation Stiles takes, bending down, over, and sinking his teeth into Peter's flesh. Blood bursts in his mouth, drips down his chin and throat in equal measure, and Stiles hold his teeth firm, growls a little, biting harder and harder until Peter gives, his entire body going limp.

Stiles lets go, says, " _Mine_ ," and feels the guardian bond form at the same time as another bond, just as deep but anchored differently. "Oh," he says, a little breathless, feeling the fur of Peter's 'wolf brush against his insides. He wonders what Peter feels in return, if there's anything even though Stiles has no 'wolf of his own to offer in return.

He stares at Peter, as Peter tenses a little, opens his eyes and pins them on Stiles.

"I have no 'wolves to offer you," Stiles says, quietly, his eyes fixed on Peter's. "Erica is my guardian but she belongs to Derek. I can only offer you my sky and those who shelter inside of it. But I will be yours and you will be mine and neither of us will ever be alone again." 

Peter doesn't say anything for a while, a long while, then he just tilts his head again and says, "Alpha," like a greeting, like he's been gone away and now he's home, like Stiles is his everything.

It's a heady feeling and Stiles has no words, so he merely gives Peter a lopsided smile, sends reassurance down their bonds, and leans forward to lick the blood of his promise from Peter's skin.


End file.
